


rapunzel

by canadino



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-06
Updated: 2015-02-06
Packaged: 2018-03-10 18:21:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3299405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canadino/pseuds/canadino
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Held captive because of an uncontrollable craving.</p>
            </blockquote>





	rapunzel

"My mother cheated on my father shortly after my conception," Akashi said. "She wanted to separate from him a little after I was born. My father had extensive testing done on me to make sure I was his son, but I think regardless of the biological fact, he has always considered me a product of her infidelity. But in spite of his resentment, he always considered me also as something he could hold over my mother, so he fought to have complete custody of me and you know no one can hold their own against my father's legal team without an army of their own. So she gave me up." 

Midorima's knuckles were white because he was gripping the steering wheel of his car, an inconspicuous dark green thing that was pittering along with a couple thousand miles under its belt. The leather that circled the steering wheel was worn where he put his hands on it every day, ten and two o' clock. He felt like an asshole for mentioning it, but they had been sitting in front of the gates of the Akashi Estate for half an hour now and Akashi had made no movement to undo his seatbelt. "Do you want to come home with me, Akashi?"

"No," Akashi said. He clicked the button on his seatbelt. "I shouldn't. Or rather, I can't. And shouldn't, I suppose." 

"That's alright." He kept his eyes looking forward, through the windshield that was a little streaky from the way he washed them the last time he had gone to the gas station. His grip loosened somewhat and his fingers felt the release of the strain on his joints. Midorima thought he would go home after picking up dinner from the joint down the street and maybe masturbate a little before going to sleep. He had a long day ahead of him tomorrow. 

"Maybe," Akashi said, "it's that thing that pregnant women have. You know, prenatal cravings. I upset the balance of her hormones so she felt like she needed someone else."

"That's," said Midorima, "not how it works." 

"You're the doctor." Akashi had gathered himself and buttoned up his coat. He looked self contained again and bound together. "Thank you for sending me home, Midorima. You are the one I can depend on the most." The hand on Midorima's forearm lingered for longer than was sweet. Midorima thought he was going to have terrible, long lingering dreams again. He was a little tired of seeing red hair behind his eyelids the moment he jolted back to consciousness. Akashi opened the car door and stepped out one foot at a time.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then," Midorima said, after having run simulations on everything he could have possibly said and seeing all of them run themselves deep into the ground. Akashi smiled, wane, and shut the door. Midorima drove home with the windows down. 

[=]

Akashi came to the hospital frequently to see him, and Midorima spent most of his early visits wondering if this was the case and now he was certain of the fact that Akashi had no other business related purposes of coming to the hospital and weaving around the elderly and the cold-ridden and the children just to find his office. His nurses and secretary no longer asked for his number or purpose. 

"Let's have dinner together," Midorima said after finishing his paperwork. Akashi was tapping away at his phone, answering business emails while sitting on the plush couch Midorima had switched to once Akashi had made it a regular habit to find him. The couch before it was lumpy and faded. Now it was leather and firm and had gold painted arms. Akashi looked up at him, and Midorima saw the start of wrinkles under his eyes, the consequence of more than several sleepless nights and big wide smiles at his father's events. His eyes were still different hues, red and golden. 

"Sorry," Akashi said. "I can't tonight. My father's going through a really big project and he wants me home to go through the fine print with him." He stood and Midorima saw he made no effort to step away because he was too close. His nose reached Midorima's chin. "I'll have time in the next few days though. I'll come over." 

Midorima had pushed Akashi down once, in his apartment on his bed, in a fit of passion. When he looked down upon Akashi, horrified at himself for his lack of composure and self restraint, Akashi looked back up at him with a wonderful tragic expression of amazement, terror, and guilt. It made Midorima swallow heavily and say he would sleep on the couch. It was a fitful night. 

"I'm sorry," Akashi said again, and Midorima's tie was slipping through his fingers, the most careful caress Midorima had ever felt. "If it wasn't like this, if I weren't like this, maybe…" It was the most vulnerable Midorima had ever heard Akashi's voice. "If it isn't too much to ask, I'll have to bother you to drive me back to the house again." The tie slid out of his grasp. Akashi came to the hospital by the family car and asking Midorima to drive him home was nothing more than an attempt to extend the time they spent alone. It had stopped really being bittersweet to Midorima and more bitter with an aftertaste of sweet. 

"Of course," he choked out. 

Akashi Masaomi spoke to him once about his intended trajectory for his son. "I appreciate all the years you've spent as a friend to Seijuro," Masaomi said. "I am truly grateful you've been a pillar of support for him. He is a spring of talent and ability and I believe he will go far." He spoke familiarly, like conversing about a prized show horse. "I have brought him up to bear the Akashi name. So I will apologize beforehand when he and you must part so he can carry the mantle of my life's work." The warning was veiled but sharp. Midorima wondered how transparent he was. Akashi did not see him for a few days after the talk. 

"Don't stop at the gates," Akashi said a few blocks from the estate. Midorima slowed down to a stop behind a grove of trees. "My father keeps asking why you're always driving home. I think he'll start sending the car for me if you keep showing up in front of the house." 

"Akashi," Midorima said, his voice level. He felt faintly like vomiting. "Have you considered that, perhaps, we should…stop seeing each other like this? It's hard on you and it's…for me, it's…"

"Shintarou," Akashi whispered. Midorima had not heard Akashi call his first name since their first year in high school. "Kiss me right now, please." Midorima let out a ragged breath, and Akashi was looking at him with hard eyes over the gears. He wasn't going to ask again. 

It was desperate and pathetic, Midorima knew, just like out of the dramas his sister liked to watch whenever he visited her; but still, he leaned over and pressed his lips onto Akashi's. Akashi's eyes closed halfway and they collided, noses barely grazing each other. He opened his mouth and Midorima gripped his right hand on the steering wheel so tight he was afraid he'd break it; his foot was still planted on the brake but it felt precarious, the way Akashi was leaning just barely against him, his hands clumsy and fumbling against his arm. The professional brisk tone of Akashi's phone drowned out the sound Akashi's tongue made against Midorima's and they jerked away from each other. Akashi's hand was shaking as he pressed the phone to his ear. "Hello, father? What's wrong?" 

Midorima forced his breath to come out silent and slowly. 

"Yeah, I'm almost home. Don't worry about me." He hung up and visibly deflated. Midorima noticed how red his lips still were. 

"Your face is still red," he said. "Stay here until you look ready to stand before your father again." 

"I want to be happy." Akashi did not say anything more. He got out of the car and walked around the corner toward the house. Midorima began to let his foot off the brake pedal and thought better of it, turning off the car altogether. The car smelled faintly of Akashi's cologne. The house hung on Midorima's mind, a grand thing, with a stone garden and fine tatami mats and floors so solid they did not creak or echo when some stepped on them. It was practically a maze, and Midorima would have gotten lost the first time he visited if Akashi had not walked in front of him and led him down various hallways and around corners and up stairs to his room that looked over the front lawn. Akashi navigated it like a first class captain. He found Midorima too, who was not keeping himself particularly hidden, and let his hair down around him. 

Shiori, Akashi's mother, felt something like this too, Midorima thought, a young wife spun around in such an estate and unwound somewhere else. She kept herself locked up and when she turned away, she let herself give into what she wanted, in a way that Midorima thought contributed to the way Akashi had a crazy sweet tooth but only ate strawberries and cream on shortcake when Midorima bought it for him. He wondered where she was now, completely excommunicated from the Akashi family. He turned the key in the ignition again and eased the car back until he reached the closest side street and began to return home. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading til the end. Leave a comment if possible.


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